


In Two Hours (And Not a Minute Later)

by dissolvedingirl (imadra_blue)



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Awkward Romance, Canon - TV, Character Study, Developing Relationship, M/M, Vignette, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 03:10:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4903261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imadra_blue/pseuds/dissolvedingirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reid finally decides to confront Hotch about those intense looks he's been giving Reid for years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Two Hours (And Not a Minute Later)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Turn to the Right](https://archiveofourown.org/works/57292) by [imadra_blue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imadra_blue/pseuds/imadra_blue). 



> This is a remix of one of my old fics, "Turn to the Right", which I wrote close to six years ago. The story has been updated to reflect my evolving style [as requested in a meme](http://imadra-blue.tumblr.com/post/130195388429/d-g-h-and-v-for-the-fic-writers-meme-yeah-i), as well as the characters and canon. This was written in the morning before the Season 11 premiere, so is only compliant through Season 10.

...

On the nights that Spencer would stay late, writing psychological evaluations for court documents, he usually left the building at the same time as Hotch. They would say little to each other, though they rode the same elevator down to the exit. What made those moments memorable was how Hotch always opened the doors for Spencer. When Spencer would walk past him, mumbling his thanks, Hotch's gaze grew alive and hot, dark spots in molten lava. If Spencer wished to flatter himself, he would have called the expression lustful.

People never looked at someone like Spencer with naked lust, much less someone like Hotch. Spencer wondered what it was about himself that made Hotch look at him so. His skin stretched too tight over his bones, and his limbs hung in ungainly fashion. There was nothing beautiful when he glanced in the mirror. There was his mind, but his mind was the ugliest part about him. Intelligence didn't mask his insecurities, his borderline mental illnesses, his dark desires. Yet Hotch had spent years looking at him with unbridled intensity: before Hayley died, after Hayley died, even after he started dating Beth. The mystery behind Hotch's interest was as alluring as the interest itself. Alluring enough that Spencer refused to disrupt it by asking about it.

Hotch always kept that heated look for the moments that Spencer passed a hair's breadth from him. Usually, Spencer would keep walking past him, bid him farewell, and they would split up to find their own vehicles. But after a decade of working together, he realized he needed to confront it. His entire life seemed a series of missed chances and failed encounters. Even his last coffee date with Dorian had gone nowhere. If he never took a chance, he would never be able to experience anything. He would lose everything, as he had with Maeve.

So Spencer stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, just out of the security camera's range, and turned around to face Hotch.

Hotch drew up short to avoid slamming into him. "Reid?"

Spencer stepped up close to Hotch, close enough to feel his warmth, to smell his Old Spice cologne, and tilted his chin to study Hotch's face. The close proximity seemed to liquefy Hotch's dark gaze again. "You give me some odd looks sometimes," Spencer said, keeping his gaze fixed on Hotch's hooded eyes.

It took Hotch a full ten seconds to respond—half of an eternity. "There's no sense in denying that accusation to a profiler as good as you," he admitted.

"Does it mean anything?"

Hotch glanced around, no doubt to make sure they were well and truly alone. "This isn't the place, Reid. We're on the front lawn of the BAU."

"Nobody's here. We're the last to leave."

Sighing, Hotch returned his heated attention to Spencer. "It only means something if you want it to. And if you want it to, then come to this bar in two hours. We'll discuss it over a drink." He pulled out a business card from his pocket and held it in his palm.

Spencer hesitated. Hotch was his boss. Hotch was a man. Hotch was a father. Hotch was a workaholic. Hotch's hands had not been sanitized in the last five minutes. If he thought any longer about it, he could produce a thousand more reasons why he shouldn't take that card. But overthinking things had left him alone and lonely thus far. Perhaps it was time for him to take a risk. Spencer slipped the card from Hotch's palm, his fingers brushing over warm skin. Hotch gently closed his hand, his gun-calloused fingers brushing over Spencer's hand, sending small sparks of electricity down Spencer's spine. Touch usually gave Spencer anxiety. But Hotch's touch only thrilled him.

"I hope to see you in two hours, then," Hotch said, dropping his hand to his side. His gaze darted side-to-side, and his shoulders squared. It occurred to Spencer that Hotch was as socially awkward as he was, only better at hiding it behind the thousand yard stare and firm jaw.

Spencer adjusted the strap of his messenger bag. "I'll be there."

Saying nothing, Hotch nodded and started walking towards the parking garage. After a moment, he glanced back at Spencer. "I mean it. In two hours. And not a minute later."

"I can be there by the second, if you like."

"I have no doubt of that." Hotch continued to walk away, but he glanced back several times.

Spencer glanced down at the card, recognizing the name of a popular gay bar in the Washington, D.C. area. It seemed Hotch was full of surprises. Spencer smiled to himself as he headed to his own vehicle. He had a long drive ahead of him.

_End._


End file.
